


meet me halfway

by blacksatinpointeshoes



Series: Agent Robbie Reyes 'verse [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gen, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Sick Robbie Reyes, Skye | Daisy Johnson Feels, Skye | Daisy Johnson-centric, basically it's cute, robbie helps, set between 4x07 and 4x08, trust me on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksatinpointeshoes/pseuds/blacksatinpointeshoes
Summary: Daisy has nightmares. Robbie, for some reason, doesn't shy away.





	meet me halfway

**Author's Note:**

> this fic, for reasons unknown to even me, has a very special place in my heart. I hope you enjoy it too :)

Daisy can’t stand the silence.

It’s suffocating, horrid, pressing in from all four walls of the tiny SHIELD communal kitchen in her wing of the Playground’s living quarters. She hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, even though the switch is a few metres away from her head and sitting at eye level. Daisy is too tired – bone tired – to get up at all.

She sucks in a breath and lets it out again, stuttering on the exhale like a Slinky taking its time walking down a flight of stairs. Her eyes fill with tears and she presses the heels of her hands to her forehead, whimpering as she breathes again and muffling the sound of the sob that so desperately wants to escape.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, if you had only been a little bit stronger this wouldn’t have happened and it’s all your fault you stupid, stupid girl._

If Daisy squints hard enough she can conjure the image of Andrew sitting in front of her, his smile as gentle and blameless as always. She can imagine the way he would put his hand over hers and calm her fears, remind her that her team has forgiven her, that the time she spent under Hive’s command wasn’t of her own free will. Daisy can hear echoes of his steady, comforting voice; she can hear Dr Garner asking her if and when she is ready to talk; she can see the warmth in his eyes.

Something vicious bites back from the darkest part of Daisy’s thoughts, _you killed him. Andrew and Lincoln both, good people, and you killed them._ A strangled cry leaves Daisy’s parted, chapped lips and fizzles into the darkness. There is wet on her face, tears she didn’t even feel sliding down her cheeks and hugging her skin in slippery tracks.

When Daisy closes her eyes she is met by the last dredges of her nightmare; Andrew’s glassy eyes staring up but never seeing, Lincoln’s voice fading into static and disappearing forever. She never got the chance to bury either of them – the men who were there for here when she needed it most.

The light flickers on.

Daisy’s head snaps up and she is instantly on the defensive, bloodshot eyes bright with a sudden reckless fire. It’s only Robbie in the doorway, looking smaller than usual with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair mussed with sleep.

Daisy relaxes. Barely.

“Couldn’t sleep?” asks Robbie, and Daisy shakes her head, not trusting her voice to stay steady. Robbie, bless him, doesn’t comment on her appearance, just sits down in the seat across from her as though he knows she needs him to. “Nightmares?”

“What gave it away?” Daisy’s voice crackles but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t really care about anything any more, now that someone else has stumbled into her pity party. All she wants is for this – whatever ‘this’ is – to be over. Daisy is so, so tired.

Robbie is quiet for a few moments, looking at Daisy in a way that seems to stare directly into her soul. Maybe it does. “Do you need anything?” he asks, his forehead crinkling in that remarkably concerned way of his. Usually that sort of affection is reserved only for Gabe.

Daisy almost snaps ‘We barely even _know_ each other. I don’t deserve your help,’ but she doesn’t, because while she may not deserve his help, she certainly wants it. Instead she parries away the question with spikes and barbs, asking, “What about you? What kind of monsters brought _you_ to the saddest place in the compound?”

Robbie glances down and for a moment Daisy thinks she’s succeeded in shoving him away, if only for now. Then his expression turns sheepish and he admits, crinkling his nose, “Actually, I was, uh, looking for cold medicine.”

The response throws her, and she’s stunned into silence for a moment. The only thing Daisy can think to say is, “You can still get sick? Even with that – the Rider?”

Robbie sniffles and lets out a hoarse chuckle, his smile lifting her spirits in a way Daisy didn’t expect. “Yeah. It kind of sucks.” He clears his throat, leaning forward slightly, and says, “How ’bout a deal.”

“Oh?” asks Daisy, wiping at her eyes. Her voice is still husky with the remains of recently shed tears but stronger now, regaining the steel and fervour that has Daisy Johnson still kicking after everything she’s been through.

“Yeah,” says Robbie, a smile tugging gently at his lips. “You help me navigate these cabinets, and I’ll, uh…” He covers his mouth to cough but Daisy has caught his meaning, her eyes embarrassingly tearing again.

“You don’t have to listen to me,” she manages, wavering and watery. “I don’t need to put that on you.”

“You need someone to hear you,” says Robbie gently, and the tears start falling again, fast and hard. Robbie stands up, walks around the table to put his blanket across her shoulders, a comforting hand on the small of her back. Daisy is shaking and Robbie kneels next to her, whispering something in a low voice.

It takes a moment for Daisy to realise that he’s singing, softly, in Spanish. His voice is raspy but strong, sweet, and on key. It takes Robbie a while, too, to fully notice the impact of what he’s done; as Daisy stops crying he finishes the verse with _“…de rosa y jasmin.”_

For a few seconds they both go quiet as Daisy dries her eyes again, letting her breath even out as it syncs with Robbie’s. She glances up at him, open and vulnerable, a story of time and grief all written across her face like freckles. The silence is filled with possibility.

“I’m sorry,” says Robbie suddenly, swiping a finger under his nose, and the air is filled with overlapping conversation, puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit.

“Sorry? What are you sorry for, _I’m_ the one that started blubbering out of nowhere –”

“I shouldn’t have done that. I ignored your boundaries and –”

“No, Robbie, you were right, I _do_ need someone to listen to me right now and I’m glad that that person was you –”

“But I should have asked first –”

“No.” Daisy’s firm statement ends the rising volume and the little kitchen goes quiet again. “No, that… that was good. Thank you.” Another beat. “If you don’t mind, um… what was that song?”

Robbie turns away and sneezes into the crook of his elbow; Daisy stands up and drapes the blanket around him again. They are closer than before, her hands just shy of settling on his waist.

Robbie says, “It was a lullaby. Eli, he would sing it to Gabe and me when we were little, and when he…” Robbie swallows hard, winces. Daisy doesn’t force him to continue. “In the hospital after the accident, when Gabe had nightmares, I… I brought back that, that uh – that part of us. Our childhood, you know?”

Daisy nods, shuts her eyes. “Yeah,” she says, and thinks of Coulson way back when, after Ian Quinn shot her. She thinks of how, when Daisy finally woke up, she saw Coulson’s worried face and some part of her registered him as her father. “Yeah, I know.”

“It’s called _Arroro mi Niño,”_ says Robbie, his eyes seeing back ten years. They are tired, filled with nostalgia and sorrow. “I… just kind of reacted.”

“Thank you,” Daisy says again, taking a step back to look up at him and study his face. He looks young in this light, and the shadows curve against his skin to highlight the contours of his nose, his jaw. She smiles, and he does too.

“Any time.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and kudos are always appreciated. I'm on tumblr at thoughtsbubble if you would like to yell at/with me :)


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